


Dash Across the Darkness

by PenUltimate



Series: Your Infinitude of Stars [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: (my most beloved of all tropes), (the last three characters appear only very briefly), Childhood Sweethearts, Fluff, Humor, Kid!Spock - Freeform, M/M, kid!Jim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-13 23:11:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7989718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenUltimate/pseuds/PenUltimate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a dark night, centuries from now, galaxies away, ten year old Jim Kirk makes a decision that changes his life forever.</p><p>
  <em>“I will take the sun in my / mouth / and leap into the ripe air / Alive / with closed eyes / to dash across the darkness.”</em>
  <br/>
  <em>-ee cummings<em><em></em></em></em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dash Across the Darkness

 

_2230, Vulcan_

 

By the time she was nineteen, Amanda Grayson knew she wanted children.

It was one of the main things she longed for in life. She would walk through a shopping mall, and smile at every parent she saw, whether they were fraught or delighted, furious or adoring. Every time she strolled by a playground, she wanted to stop and dote on the tiny people playing within. She waved at any babbling infant and stressed parent that passed her by.

Amanda also knew – because every person that had children who she admitted this to, told her – that it would be difficult. Children weren’t all fun and games. They were hard work.

But every time a child ran, skipped or toddled past her, she yearned to coo at them. She longed to take care of them, to teach them, to protect them and to help them to grow. To give them a safe, stable home and an unconditional place in her heart. 

So, yes, she knew that raising children would probably be one of the most difficult things she ever did.

But Amanda Grayson _knew_ that it would be worth it.

Then she met Sarek, who in turn introduced her to his son, Sybok.

Amanda was just twenty-one years old when she argued the case for her marriage in front of the Vulcan High Council, because at the time a citizen of Vulcan could only marry another citizen of Vulcan. She won and was allowed to marry the man she loved and to join his family.

She had been young, so young, when she first realised that this was the main thing she wanted in life. Now she held her son in her arms – her second son, in her mind, for she loved Sybok just the same – and all seemed right in the universe. 

Amanda had known that it would be worth it – and although it had perhaps been a little harder than she thought – she had been right. It was.

 

* * *

 

_2233, The Kelvin_

 

Winona Davis never wanted kids.

But then she was nineteen, and she met George Kirk, and everything changed.

She could tell that George would be an excellent father. He was patient with little ones, even when she thought they were being brats. He wanted a family and said that he’d stay at home and look after them while she continued on with her career. It sounded like the perfect life.

With him there to help her, she didn’t think she’d be half-bad at raising children.

Winona knew that she wasn’t built for motherhood. Not on her own.

Unfortunately, she was right.

 

* * *

 

_2237, Vulcan_

 

Spock was aware of the illogic of his actions even as he made his way through the stark landscape outside ShiKahr.

He was already scheduled to take his kahs-wan on the 20th day of the month of Tasmeen that year, the Vulcan year 8877. That wasn't for another month. However, other Vulcans his age would be present at that kahs-wan. There were enough dangers out here among the red sands without the threat his own peers presented.

The young Vulcan had already been out in the Sas-A-Shar Desert for 7.84 days without food, water or weapons, and would soon be able to return home and put this whole ordeal behind him, alive and an adult in the eyes of his people.

It was much less dangerous this way, he was sure. If he undertook the kahs-wan along with his peers during Tasmeen, they would be an additional obstacle to his survival.

As per tradition, after surviving ten days in Vulcan’s Forge he would have passed the maturity test. There was supposedly no shame in failing, but Spock had known enough shame in his life already and was not willing to risk it.

Spock was unaccountably glad that there was no one around to see him startle at the sound of a sehlat’s rumbling. When he turned toward the sound, he found that it had not originated from a wild sehlat as he had ~~feared~~ expected, but instead from none other than his pet, I-Chaya.

Had he been more human, Spock would have been extremely surprised. However, he had chosen the Vulcan way, and so he merely accepted this unanticipated development.

He calmly made his way over to his large pet and offered her his hand. I-Chaya leaned forward and nuzzled into his palm, rumbling happily.

“How long have you been following?” he wondered aloud, a somewhat illogical and rhetorical question, but there was nobody there to judge him and to whisper about the absurdity of speaking to a sehlat.

Spock was unsure if his pet’s appearance had compromised his kahs-wan, but decided that it did not matter for there was little he could do about it now. He knew from experience that she would not obey him if he sent her away.

I-Chaya’s head butted into his chest gently, bringing his attention back to her. Spock scratched through the fur behind her ears, much to her delight.

Resigned, he continued his journey back to the cave in which he had been sleeping, trusting that the sehlat would follow him, as she always did.

 

* * *

 

 

Spock had completed his kahs-wan. Like Surak during his pilgrimage during the 4th century, which the kahs-wan was meant to mimic, Spock had sought serenity in logic. He had spent much of his time meditating to conserve his energy, and he had utilised adun cacti to obtain water.

It had been ten days and now he was journeying out of the Sas-A-Shar Desert. The sun was slipping low in the sky and he and I-Chaya were close to the edge.

Spock realised that the sehlat was acting rather strangely. Her nostrils were flared and she appeared to be… growling. Spock’s eyes widened when he realised that she was not looking at him, but in fact past him. That was when he heard the hissing.

Apprehensive, he felt an odd sense of dread, although he did not know why.

He turned around.

A le-matya was crouching behind him, some distance away, it’s green and yellow scales gleaming in the sunlight, it’s tail whipping about behind it. It’s teeth bared, it prowled towards him menacingly. Spock stumbled backwards into I-Chaya, whose growling grew louder the closer the other creature got.

The only warning that he received that the le-matya was about to pounce was the dip in its body before it leapt into the air.

But before it could get to him, I-Chaya threw herself at it.

The beast dug its claws into I-Chaya’s side, its tail slashing madly at the air. The sehlat ripped into the creature’s flesh with her paws and fangs. The le-matya’s hiss turned into a screech and it sunk it’s teeth into I-Chaya’s side.

“No!”

Ignoring teeth in her flank, I-Chaya ripped open the le-matya’s throat.

Suddenly, there was silence.

Spock ran forward as I-Chaya released the dead beast from her jaws, dropping it to the ground, before collapsing beside it. The sehlat gave a pained whimper as Spock inspected her wound.

The bite of a le-matya was venomous. Fatal. The young Vulcan knew this, and yet he wished it was not true.

Wishing was illogical.

Spock sat with I-Chaya for hours, until the sun was almost hidden from the sky, running his fingers through her thick fur in an attempt to comfort her. He did not know how to lessen her pain.

There was little point in leaving her to her suffering in order to fetch help. There was no help possible – a cure for le-matya venom did not exist.

In the distance, he heard the hum of an engine. He looked toward the sound to see a transport shuttle making its way towards him across the sandscape.

When it stopped, an unfamiliar Vulcan stepped out and walked towards him.

The stranger did not even pause at the sight of I-Chaya when he stopped beside them, before raising his hand in the shape of the ta’al.

“I am pleased that I was able to locate you. Your parents are concerned.”

Spock hesitantly returned the gesture of greeting, before placing his hand back on I-Chaya’s muzzle. She was no longer conscious, but he could still hear her ragged breathing.

“Who are you?” he asked, curious as to what the other Vulcan was doing in the desert and why he had stopped his vehicle near Spock.

“I am your cousin. Selek,” the stranger replied.

Spock tilted his head slightly to the side, a habit he did not realise he had, examining Selek curiously.

“I was not aware that I had a cousin by the name of Selek.”

“We are only distantly related,” the stranger explained.

Spock decided that the fact that he ha never met or heard of this individual before mattered not. He let it go.

“You should return home, Spock. You may take the shuttle, we are close to ShiKahr. I will… take care of I-Chaya.”

There was no cure for le-matya venom. Spock was not certain what Selek meant, but he assumed that Selek was going to have the sehlat euthanized. Spock wanted to stay with his loyal pet.

“It is getting dark. You must go,” Selek insisted. “All will be well, Spock. Go home.”

Spock looked from I-Chaya’s closed eyes to Selek’s soft but stern ones. They reminded him of his mother’s and he was unaccustomed to disobeying her.       

As the doors of the shuttle slid shut behind him, Spock thought he heard Selek say “ _you are needed here_ ”. Whether he said it to Spock or I-Chaya – or if, in fact, he said it at all – Spock was unsure.

He went to the control cabin and typed in a series of instructions that would take him across the Plain of Blood and back to ShiKahr.

Spock had wanted to prove himself, to prove that he was just as good as any other Vulcan, mixed heritage or not.

Little did he know that years later, the planet of Vulcan would see whether or not a _human_ could withstand the trials of the Sas-A-Shar Desert just as well as any Vulcan.

 

* * *

 

_2243, Vulcan_

 

It wasn’t as though Jim Kirk went looking for trouble – he usually just went looking for fun and found trouble along the way.

He'd actually only snuck outside in the first place to stargaze. It was amazing to see the different patterns of constellations in the sky here in comparison to Earth. The lack of a moon just made the whole experience seem even more alien.

But once he'd gotten outside, things took a turn toward the unexpected.

Looking at the sombre group of young Vulcans being led onto the space shuttle in front of the school-building, Jim didn't pause to consider why following them might not be a good idea. He never pondered consequences. Few ten year olds do.

After a month on the arid planet of Vulcan (or, as the Vulcans called it, T’Khasi), cooped up in “learning facilities,” only allowed out for “educational trips,” Jim felt like he was going stir crazy. He was itching for freedom, and adventure – or whatever passed for it on this dull planet.

Sneaking onto a regular shuttle wouldn't have been easy, but this one had a cargo hold underneath it, fortunately – or unfortunately – for Jim. He waited for each of the young Vulcans to board, and then watched as two sombre, adult Vulcans spoke to one another beside it. One was dark-skinned, one pale. Their faces revealed nothing about why they were packing a bunch of kids into a shuttle in the middle of the night. But then, Vulcan faces tended to not reveal much of anything anyway.

With the knowledge of the superior hearing of Vulcans in mind, Jim crept along the sandscape, the very same way he did when creeping around his home in the dead of darkness in his house back in Iowa, on his quests for midnight snacks. He tried to move as little as possible until the engine started, figuring that the noise would help to disguise the sound of his footsteps and breathing. All he had to do was breathe as slowly and silently as he could, stay out of sight, and then make his move under the cover of engine-noise.

The light-skinned Vulcan turned back towards the school, apparently finished her discussion with her shadowy-skinned counterpart. She took a PADD with her. If Kirk had to guess, details of the children in the shuttle and their journey tonight would be on that device. Pity he couldn't get his hands on it.

Jim had just sat down inside the small cargo-hold when the shuttle began to move.

Only once his pulse had slowed to a slow steady thrum did Jim relax and consider his current situation in more depth. The Vulcan kids had seemed calm while boarding, but once again that wasn't really helpful. For all Jim knew, inside they could've been quivering in fear. Still, he thought he'd seen a few shaky hands, furrowed brows, and downward directed gazes, so he figured something slightly more exciting than a school trip was happening.

Jim delighted in the rush of adrenaline, the mysterious enchantment of an adventure, more than he worried about the consequences of being a stow-away on this shady-seeming expedition.

When his Mom and Uncle Frank had told him he'd be going to another planet on a 'Fleet educational exchange programme, he'd thought it'd be much more exciting than this. He'd heard Vulcan's were boring, but this was getting torturous. Even the food was tasteless. Things were getting unbearable. Jim was hoping that this journey on the shuttle would at least spice things up a little bit. After all, why would Vulcan school children be travelling under the cover of the night unless they were going somewhere interesting?

It took quite some time for the shuttle to stop and for the journey – apparently – to come to an end. He could faintly hear the sound of footsteps making their way out of the shuttle.

Jim sneaked off of shuttle at the back. Strangely enough, there was nothing in the cargo-bay, except for Jim and… a blanket? Jim ignored the little voice in his head that said that _thievery will only make this worse_ and that he’d _really done it this time_ , and grabbed it for camouflage, before darting over to a heap of rocks beside the shuttle that was big enough to hide him. It made for a good vantage point and he could now see the Vulcans and make out what they were saying as he draped the dark blanket over his head. 

“We will return to pick up the survivors of the kahs-wan in ten days. If any of you have difficulty, you are aware of what to do.” The voice was deep and so Jim assumed it was one of the adult Vulcans even though he couldn’t see their mouths since they were faced away from him. He was guessing it was the female, though.

Due to the how detached the words sounded, Jim didn’t notice their meaning for a while.

His eyes widened when his mind register the words “ten days” and “survivors”.

_What?_

But before he could react, the older Vulcans stepped back into the shuttle and then they were gone, too fast for him to catch up. Jim stared after them in shock.

The young Vulcans dispersed and began to head off in different directions. There were five of them. Jim pondered following them, but he had never met a nice Vulcan and he doubted they would be kind to him. Besides, they were all separating and wandering off alone, so he didn’t think his company would be welcome.

_Kahs-wan._

Jim wondered where he’d heard that before…

“Oh, no,” he whispered to himself, his terror growing.

The place that he’d heard of it before had been in class, when they’d been preparing to go to Vulcan and had been learning about Vulcan culture. 

All Jim had learnt of the kahs-wan was that it was some kind of Vulcan coming-of-age ritual. He hadn't realised it was something that kids had to _survive_. He hadn't known what it entailed. He just knew that it took place in "Vulcan's Forge" – a Human-coined name for a region natively known as "the Sas-A-Shar Desert". It had been created by a nuclear war during the Time of Awakening and was rich with history – but empty of resources.

Jim tried not to panic.

As his mom would say: _Panic makes you stupid and dead_.

Of course, Jim was clearly stupid for getting himself into this situation, but he was also a survivor. If his dad had sacrificed himself so that Jim could live, only for Jim to die on a planet as boring as Vulcan, he would never forgive himself.

It was at times like this that Jim was glad he was a voracious reader. He pursed his lips and tried to calm himself and think. He slowly worked his way through compiling all of the information he knew about survival, both from books like the Life of Pi and Treasure Island, and from the things he had been taught by his Vulcan instructors on what to do if they ever had problems when travelling through the desert.

For once, he was thankful that everyone on the planet believed in preparing for every possible eventuality.

Vulcans can go for a long time without food or water. Humans cannot. At best, he would probably only live for a few days before dying of dehydration.

If he stayed out in the open for too long, he’d die from exposure. The first thing he needed to find was shelter; then water. If he was lucky, he might happen upon food, but he could live for much longer without that than without water and shade.

Also important was that he remember to return here when the “ten days” were up. If anyone – okay, probably _when_ someone – decided to send out a search party for him, he would presumably be very difficult to find out here in the middle of nowhere. He wasn’t sure how likely it was that they would realise where he’d gone. This drop off spot would probably be his best chance for getting found.

Jim thought about his options as he sat there in the sand, and decided that his best bet would be to find one of the caves that he knew were at the eastern edge of the desert. They had been shown holographic maps of many places in Vulcan during their history lessons on the planet, and Jim had never been happier to have an eidetic memory. He could see an outcropping of red cliffs from where he stood, towering over the bare sand as if they were condemning all those who passed under them. There would probably be caves at their base.

Jim made his way to them across the sand, cool from the night air. He tugged the blanket closer around himself.

He ignored the harsh judgement of the cliffs and searched for anything helpful as he hid in their shadows.

 

* * *

 

All life seemed to have deserted the harsh stretch of land that Jim traversed throughout the night – just as the name “desert” would suggest. It was barren; a wasteland devoid of anything edible.

Jim made sure to take note of where exactly he was going in relation to the drop off site, so that he’d be able to make his way back when the ten days were up.

Dawn was just peeping over the horizon when he found a small cave, a hole that nature bore into the wall of what looked like sandstone to him, even though he knew it wasn’t.

When he went inside it, he found a small pool of water at the very back, and a tunnel that seemed to lead further into a network of dark, eerie caves.

Vaguely satisfied and very scared, Jim drank from the pool before curling up in the blanket, and shivering himself to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Jim just couldn’t leave well enough alone.

After two days (he was surprised he lasted that long, honestly) of doing nothing but sitting in a cave, napping and hydrating, he got bored.

So, he decided, in his ten-year-old-wisdom, to take a look around outside.

He walked along the wall of the cliff beside the entrance to what he now thought of as _his_ cave. After half an hour of walking, he nearly gave up, but he came across another cave before he turned back. Slowly, he walked in, hoping there was something interesting inside.

Jim got his wish.

“Uh-oh.”

He was shocked by the sight of a giant saber-tooth teddy bear. One of its teeth was broken off at about half way. Its eyes flickered up to peer at him closely. Jim knew that Vulcan children kept domestic sehlats as pets (because Vulcans just lived to find ways to subtly imply that they were bad-asses and also better than everyone else), but this sehlat was in out in the middle of the desert, so Jim guessed that it was probably a wild one.

Jim tensed up and tried to retreat slowly but the animal stood up and lumbered over to him. It didn’t seem like it was going to attack him, though. It’s behaviour was unthreatening and when it reached him, it just nudged him with its muzzle, rumbling softly in its throat.

Hesitantly, he raised his hand to pat its head.

The sehlat leant into his hand. When he began to pet it, it sat down beside him, seeming content to lay its head at his feet.

Domesticated, then.

“Wow, those are some cool battle-scars you’ve got there,” Jim said, noticing the long, vicious marks scoring up the sehlat’s side. He trailed his fingers over the marks, startled when the sehlat reached back to scratch at them, as if they were still irritating it.

He stayed to pet the animal for a while longer. It was nice. They had lots of animals on their farm back on Iowa, and he loved spending time with them. They were always happy to see him.

But eventually, it started to get dark and Jim decided he had better head back to his cave.

The sehlat followed him.

“No. Stay,” Jim ordered, giving the creature a stern look.

It sat back on its haunches and stared at him placidly, making the strange rumbling sound again. Jim squinted suspiciously at it for a moment before turning around and continuing on his way back to his own cave.

He could still hear the sehlat’s steps treading behind his.

“I can hear you, y’know,” he told it, halting his progress. He glared at the giant shadow in the sand beside him.

Jim spun back to face the animal, drawing himself up to his full height – which wasn’t much – and putting his hands on his hips.

“Shoo!” he yelled at it, waving his hands about.

The sehlat merely looked at him, unblinking and unimpressed.

Jim sighed and gave up, accepting the animal’s presence. Besides, he had heard that there were some pretty scary animals out in the far reaches of Vulcan. He decided that, in the end, he was probably better off letting the sehlat hang around with him, anyway. Maybe its scent and presence would keep the monsters at bay.

Besides, the sehlat seemed cuddly, and warm, and nights in the desert were cold and harsh.

Jim lead the old animal to his cave and settled in for the night, ecstatic to discover that he was right about the cuddly part.

“Y’know, if you’re gonna stay with me, you’re gonna need a name,” Jim told the creature.

He examined it thoughtfully.

“How about Scar?” he tried. The animal made an awful screeching sound.

“Ugh, okay! Not that,” Jim assured it, and the sehlat settled down.

He watched as it stretched and scratched at its scars again.

“What about Itchy, huh?” he asked.

The sehlat seemed delighted with that, bumping its nose against his chest, and Jim fell asleep with his fingers knotted into dark fur, and a smile on his face.

 

* * *

 

When nine uneventful days (which he marked off by scratching lines into a wall – which he figured would also be helpful if he wanted to make sure that he had the right cave, but mostly to make sure he didn't lose count) passed, Jim began to make his way back to where they were dropped off – he figured he may as well get there early. Just in case.

He had been happy to stay in the cave after finding Itchy, away from the worst of the heat and the sun. The sehlat had kept him company most of the time, leaving occasionally to hunt, before returning with its kill and eating it. Jim found the eating part a bit disgusting, but also awesome to watch.

As Jim, accompanied by Itchy, walked across the scalding sand, he was eminently thankful for the existence of shoes.

Even walking this short distance seemed a momentous task and the emptiness of Jim’s stomach was gnawing at him, begging for food, and his limbs were weak with a lack of energy. His breath was becoming quick and harsh in the thin atmosphere, the strong surface gravity of the planet making every step more difficult than he felt it should have been. He walked in the sehlat’s shadow to hide from the searing sun’s gaze.

Upon their arrival at the drop-off site, Jim saw a girl a few years older than him with characteristically dark Vulcan hair digging into the sand nearby with her bare hands.

The girl seemed frantic and, judging by the slump of her shoulders and the dark green bags under her half-open eyes, exhausted.

She lifted her prize from the hole she had made and opened it – a metal box.

She had only been – what seemed to him like – rummaging through the box for a few moments when she collapsed.

Jim ran forward in a rush, horrified by the scratches he could see on her arms that told the story of a far more dangerous time in this desert than his own.

When he got to her side saw that the box in her hands held a comm unit. It was already engaged in a call, so Jim picked it up.

A Vulcan appeared on-screen.

“Dif-tor heh smusma,” he was greeted solemnly. 

“Uh, yeah, hi. I mean, peace and long life.”

“You are not Vulcan,” the stranger on-screen stated. 

“Really? My whole life has been a lie,” Jim quipped in return. 

He watched as the same look he usually inspired in his Vulcan instructors – and indeed every Vulcan he had met thus far – washed over the Vulcan's face. Or rather, the non-expression. It was as if he'd broken their brains and they weren't sure how to recover. They couldn't compute his sass.

“What has occurred?”

When Jim explained what had happened, the Vulcan lady on the screen turned to the side, giving what sounded like swift sharp instructions to someone off-screen in Vulcan.

She then turned back to face Jim and informed him that they would arrive with assistance soon, which Jim “illogically” thanked her for, and then kept the comm line open to be safe.

Jim settled in for the wait by getting Itchy to provide the unconscious girl with some shade from the harsh Vulcan sun. He didn’t try to wake her, hoping that she was doing that “healing trance” thing he’d heard about. He did, however, make sure that she was breathing.

When help arrived in the form of a medical shuttle, the medics asked him a few perfunctory questions along the lines of “what happened?” and “what the hell are you doing here?” and “how on Vulcan did you get here?”

There was a short, terse conversation amongst a few of the older Vulcans, before one of them informed him that they were going to call one of the teachers from his exchange programme to collect him.

It didn’t take long for his teacher to arrive, the shuttle that carried her kicking up the sand as it glided to a stop.

Jim was jubilant when he saw which instructor had come to pick him up.

“Ms Amanda!” he exclaimed, darting over to her and bouncing up and down in excitement.

She smiled at him, seeming relieved.

“Jim! We’ve been looking everywhere for you! This is… not where I thought we’d find you. What are you doing here, dear?” she asked, crouching down to his level and adjusting the hood that was protecting her face from the noonday sun. Jim could already feel his skin reddening, cooking under the sunlight.

Amanda paused in her search for answers, putting a hand on Jim’s sand-covered shoulder  (as Jim now knew after over a week spent in the desert – the stuff gets _everywhere_ ) as she took a moment to survey the area and the situation. She took in the activities of the medical team who were preparing for any assistance the other Vulcan children may need upon their return, the sehlat sitting behind Jim and the pre-teen Vulcan girl who was currently being treated with a dermal regenerator.

“Is that… I-Chaya? And… T’Pring?” Amanda questioned, shocked by the recognition.

She turned back to face Jim, her eyebrows climbing up her forehead as she examined the young boy curiously.

“My, oh my. What have you gotten yourself into?”

Amanda didn’t bother waiting for an answer. Instead, she went over to the other shuttle to check on T’Pring’s condition, and to insist that a member of the medical team check Jim. Apart from being dehydrated, a bit sunburnt and in need of nourishment and rest, Jim appeared to be mostly unscathed.

After fixing some scratches and bruises and a twisted ankle that Jim received while exploring the caves – and giving Amanda instructions on how to feed him and telling her to bring him to the hospital in ShiKahr for a check-up – the medics checked her ID, before releasing Jim into her care.

Amanda then asked if anyone had contacted T’Pring’s parents. They replied that they had not, and so she pulled out her comm and appraised T’Pring’s father of the situation.

With that matter dealt with, she told them to keep her informed of any changes and gave them her contact information, before returning to Jim’s side.

“I’m going to take you to the hospital to get checked out, and then we’re going to go to the embassy, okay?” she ascertained, smiling lightly at him. Ms Amanda had a very comforting smile. It was a strange thing to see on this strange planet, slightly out of place, but still a welcome sight.

“What about Itchy?” Jim asked, worried about his new friend.

“What?” Amanda was confused by the seemingly random question.

“Itchy,” Jim repeated, pointing to the old, faithful sehlat.

Amanda’s face filled with understanding.

“I’ll send him to get checked out and then I’ll have someone bring him home. Spock and Sarek will be excited to see him. Not that they’d ever admit it,” she smiled at him again, as if sharing in a joke. Jim didn’t understand what the joke was, but he smiled back regardless. The smile was no dimmer despite its size.

“Who’re Spock and Sarek?” he queried, confused.

“Oh, my son and my husband. You might get to meet them,” Amanda explained.

“Okay,” Jim replied, accepting this new knowledge and promptly tossing it to the back of his mind.

As they boarded the shuttle, Jim noticed that a few Vulcan children were beginning to re-emerge from the Forge. He realised that the ten days must have been officially over and he was grateful that he had survived.

The ordeal, it seemed, was over.

Although, when Jim was involved, it was only a matter of time before the next one.

 

* * *

 

The stoic hospital staff were quick and efficient and Jim was examined within an inch of his life and given a few nutrition shots.

Sadly, Vulcan doctors didn’t seem to believe in lollipop rewards.

The next item on the agenda was the United Earth Embassy. Like the rest of ShiKahr, it was huge and imposing, the building carved from the same rock that made up the unforgiving landscape of the rest of Vulcan. It was bustling, and yet eerily quiet for how busy it was. Still, it was slightly more lively due to the humans that could be seen milling about and Jim could hear raised voices and words like “passport” and “permit”  and “interplanetary” being tossed about.

Amanda lead Jim to the communications room, where she spoke briefly with a furious Lieutenant Commander Winona Kirk, before handing the comm unit off to Jim and leaving to fill out some paperwork on the “incident.” Whatever that meant.

“Mama!” Jim hopped onto the chair in front of the comm screen in Amanda’s wake, thrilled at the sight of his mother.

Winona looked tired, her dyed-blonde hair limp and brown eyes red around the edges.

“Hou, Jimmy. Are you okay?” she asked him, her hand resting on the corner of the screen, as if to reach out and touch her wayward son.

“Yup! Ms ’Manda took me to the hospital and everything, and even though the doctors weren’t that nice I feel lots better now,” Jim explained chirpily as he tried to settle into the uncomfortable chair.

Winona sighed deeply, retracting her hand from the screen to run it through her hair.

“What on Earth were you thinking?” she demanded, extremely relieved by her son’s safety, but exasperated by his escapades.

“I just wanted to see where they were going,” Jim whined, wiggling on the chair a little as if to shake the guilt off of his small shoulders.

“Oh, honey, you’re turning my hair grey,” Winona muttered, shaking her head. “Now, why don’t you tell me about what you got up to in the middle of the desert,” she prompted him, and then then listened to his tale of big bears with big teeth, heat, annoying sand, cool caves and pretty stars (“they’re so bright in the desert!”).

“Well, at least you had fun,” Mrs Kirk concluded, putting her hand on her chin and soaking up the sight of her little boy, who was so much like her it scared her sometimes.

“Now, you’ve got to promise me that you won’t go off anywhere else without asking an adult first,” she insisted, giving her son a stern look. “Or else you’re gonna be in big trouble, mister,” she chided.

Jim stuck out his lower lip in a silent, slightly mutinous expression (that she’s sure he learned from Sam) for a moment, before relenting and giving her a small nod to signify his acquiescence.

“I promise.”

“Good. Now, go get Lady Amanda. I’d like to talk to her for a minute.”

 

* * *

 

Jim wandered around one of the spare bedrooms in the S’chn T’gai–Grayson household. Ms Amanda had told him that he’d be staying with her family for a little while (so that they could “keep an eye on him” according to his Mom).

He couldn’t look under the bed, because it was carved out of rock, but he did try to stick his hand under the mattress, which revealed nothing of interest. Most of the house was made of metal (bronze? No. Copper? Or brass, maybe? Jim wasn't sure) and red stone, and it was still strange to Jim that nothing was wooden or plastic.

After looking through every empty shelf and running his hands over everything he could reach, Jim got bored.

As most people who had met him were aware: A bored James T. Kirk was a bold James T. Kirk. And as had already been established, Jim was a very curious person, and eavesdropping is an essential part of the development of any curious child.

So, it wasn’t really very surprising that Jim made his way towards the voices he could hear coming down the corridor, creeping stealthily along the wall (well, as stealthily as an ten year old could feasibly creep) and then paused in the hallway to listen.

Ms Amanda was talking about the girl in the desert.

“They said that T'Pring was repeatedly chased by sa-te kru and that she had claw marks and cuts, but thankfully she escaped. She was unable to sleep or enter a healing trance, fearing that the sa-te kru would track her scent and attack her again. Her exhaustion, added to the lack of food and water, and blood-loss led her to be on the brink of collapse, at which point she logically concluded that her body was unable to take the strain and therefore decided to call for assistance. She waited out that long, stubbornly, because this was her third time attempting the kahs-wan. She’ll be glad to hear that, technically, she was in the Sas-A-Shar for ten days,” Amanda concluded, sighing.

“That is likely.”

It was a male voice that replied, and Jim tried to lean away from the wall he was hiding against to peek into the room where they were talking, to see who it was.

“They’re lucky there were no sand fires while they were out there. The whole ritual is madness! It’s too dangerous! I can’t believe you ever managed to convince me that Spock should complete it,” Amanda remarked, twisting her hands together in retroactive concern.

“It is of no matter any longer, wife. What has passed is past,” the man intoned, steady in the face of his wife’s rampant emotionalism, where lesser Vulcans would flee.

Amanda sighed and decided to pick her battles.

“Spock will be home soon, did you speak with him?”

“Indeed. I was in a meeting with the Council when I received your message and I elected to leave early and contact our son. He should already have been aware of what happened to T'Pring, given that they are linked. However, he appeared to have no knowledge of her injuries. He believed he did not know of her collapse due to his genetics. As you know, he has the telepathic abilities of a full-blooded Vulcan, and thus this cannot be the case. I can only conclude that she must be blocking the bond, shunning him from her mind.”

It was at that point that Jim heard someone entering the hallway behind him.

He turned to find light brown eyes peering at him curiously from beneath some seriously dorky bangs.

“You are human,” the other boy observed, voice even and devoid of inflection.

“Rude,” Jim replied, confused as to why every Vulcan seemed to hate stating the obvious, except when it came to noticing his species. It was as if it was their way of being surprised.

Vulcans were so _weird_.

“Spock?” Amanda’s voice rang out down the hallway.

The Vulcan (who Jim was guessing was called Spock, which meant that he was Ms Amanda’s son) flicked his gaze towards the door.

“Hello, darling. How was school?”

Jim kept his eyes on Spock, taking in his earthy brown robes and his pointy ears. For all that they had been on a planet populated by Vulcans, the members of Jim’s exchange programme hadn’t gotten to see many Vulcans their own age.

“Satisfactory.”

_Wow, he’s quite the chatterbox._

“I’m glad,” Amanda replied, her smile turning from riddled with worry to radiant with one simple word.

Amanda then noticed Jim’s presence.

“Oh, I see you’ve met Jim,” she remarked, turning her warm gaze on the younger boy.

Jim smiled in greeting. The Vulcan didn't return the gesture.

Spock looked too serious to smile, Jim supposed.

He stuck his tongue out at him, just for the heck of it.

Not a single muscle on Spock's face so much as twitched. Jim didn't know whether to be terrified or impressed. He had to wonder if the kid even knew what a facial expression was. Spock even blinked really slowly, as if to show Jim how deeply unimpressed he was by Jim’s attempt to make him crack.

Vulcan kids were taller than Earth ones, usually, but he was pretty sure that this one – Spock – hadn't hit his growth spurt yet.

Even though he was still at least a head taller than Jim.

“Spock, would you take Jim and get him some food, please? Nothing too extreme though, okay?”

“Very well,” Spock agreed.

At his mother's behest, Spock silently lead Jim to the kitchen and asked him what “form of sustenance” he would prefer.

Jim asked for cheese pizza. He was lactose intolerant, but Spock didn't have to know that. Besides, Jim usually ate dairy products regardless.

The (half?) Vulcan glanced to the side briefly, considering.

“I will see if mother has programmed that into the food synthesizer.”

She had, but Spock paused, scanning the details of the meal onscreen with what might have been vague concern.

“'Pizza' appears to contain dairy. That would be taxing on your digestive system at this point,” he pointed out evenly.

Spock had what almost sounded like a little lisp going on. His lips moved strangely, as if he was trying to move as few facial muscles as possible while speaking. It did kind of made the Vulcan kid seem younger than him, even though Jim didn't think he really was, because he acted like he was already an adult.

Jim bet the girls in his class back in Iowa would think it was _adorable_. But he didn't. Obviously. Because he was a boy.

“Aw, c'mon. I haven't eaten properly in more than a week!” Jim pleaded.

“Precisely,” Spock responded expressionlessly.

“Pleeease,” the blonde human wheedled.

That was when Spock first learned the power of the “puppy-dog eyes”.

“Very well,” he conceded, tilting his head to the side in some strange version of a nod.

“Yes!” Jim cheered, jumping up and down in celebration – but only once. His ordeal in the desert had left him more drained than he cared to let on.

“I shall programme a dairy-free version,” the taller of the two added.

And that was the moment Jim realised that, with Spock, puppy-dog eyes only went so far.

Jim moaned.

“Awww.”

Ignoring the other child's complaints, Spock selected the pizza option on the food synthesizer and began to edit the programming to exclude cheese and attempted to make the tomato sauce milder to prevent it from upsetting Jim's stomach. Once it was ready, he placed it in front of his younger companion, before turning around to fetch some cutlery. Upon his return, he was horrified to see that Jim had already sat down and begun eating with his hands.

"Please, desist," the Vulcan requested stiffly. 

Jim frowned up at him from his stool, confused. But after looking at the knife and fork in Spock's hands, he could guess what might be wrong.

"Oh! Eating with my hands is... bad here, right?"

"Indeed,” Spock verified, in a much more grave tone of voice than Jim felt the situation warranted.

"Well, okay then. Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," the human apologised, gently retrieving the eating utensils from Spock's grasp, careful not to touch his skin. That was one lesson he and his classmates had learned very quickly upon their arrival on this planet. Once Jim had taken the cutlery, the half-Vulcan linked his hands behind his back and straightened his shoulders, feet shoulder width apart in a rather militant pose.

Spock was struck by Jim's easy accommodation to his needs, and felt slightly pleasantly surprised (although he would never admit to such a thing). In Spock's experience, people weren't in the habit of trying to make him feel comfortable. Only his mother had ever bothered.

Jim began eating, pausing between mouthfuls to converse with the other boy.

"So, I heard your parents talking..." he began slowly, watching Spock's face for any changes.

It remained blank.

"Um, and I was wondering... what's the deal with you and that T'Ping girl?" Jim continued, as determined as ever in his curiosity.

That got an eyebrow raise, the first sign Jim had received that Spock could actually move his face.          

"Unless you don't wanna tell me. That’s okay. Just– I don't really know what else to talk about..." Which was true. Jim didn't know what to say to the strange, otherworldly boy standing before him.

"T'Pring and I were betrothed," was Spock's simple reply.

"Were?" Jim questioned, waiting for more of an explanation.

"That is what I said," Spock replied, unperturbed.

"Right, but– what happened? Why'd you use ‘were’ instead of ‘are’?" Jim asked, frowning.

"It would appear that T'Pring has blocked me from her mind. As such, there is a strong possibility that my parents will wish to have the bond broken,” the Vulcan explained. Jim thought he saw something flicker in Spock's eyes as he said that. As if he almost looked down or avoided Jim's gaze, before stopping himself. It made Jim think that Spock was disturbed by this revelation. He guessed that T'Pring blocking her mind wasn't exactly typical, which sucked for Spock.

“Oh. How long have you guys been, uh, engaged?” the blue-eyed boy asked hesitantly.

"Betrothed," Spock corrected.

"Yeah. That." Jim resisted the urge to sigh in exasperation.

"Approximately 6.2 years."

"Wow, that's a long time. I'm sorry," Jim said, frowning sympathetically. 

"Why do you apologise?" the Vulcan inquired, tilting his head slightly (in confusion, Jim thought. Whoa, the more Spock emoted, the more excited Jim got).

"'cause I'm sad that that happened to you," the shorter boy explained.

"You have only known me for approximately 15.31 minutes," Spock pointed out, appearing mildly puzzled. Which was the closest to an emotion Jim had seen him get.

 _Approximately._ Jim chose to ignore the freaky level of specificity.

"Yeah, so? You don't have to know someone that well to care about what happens to them."

Spock paused, his gaze sliding to the right before returning to Jim's face. "I see."            

Jim doubted that. He got the distinct impression that this concept was entirely foreign to his Vulcan companion.

"Uh-huh. What exactly happens with bathodals anyway? How do they work? Whaddya have to do?" Jim questioned, beginning to swing his legs back and forth, occasionally knocking the heels of his sneakers against the metal legs of his stool.

"Betrothals,” Spock corrected patiently. 

“That's what I said,” Jim shrugged.

“...Indeed. The minds of the pair who are to be betrothed are linked, in a bonding ceremony," the older boy explained.

Jim had an inkling that when Spock said “indeed”, he actually meant “Human, I have no idea how to respond to what you just said/did, so I am simply choosing not to respond at all.”

"Linked? Like, you can read each other’s minds all the time?" the blonde asked, awestruck.

"Not precisely. My mind can sense changes in the psionic field, similar to the way yours can detect changes in light. Every mind works differently, and so every bond works differently. Some people think primarily in images, some aurally, and so on. Typically, touch telepathy only transfers a surface impression of what another being is feeling, the way their thoughts resonate on the psionic plane. No actual thoughts can be 'read'. To get a deeper understanding, one must usually perform a mind-meld – unless there is a telepathic bond.

“It is... The closest comparison I can think of is having a comm unit in your mind, one that is always set to the frequency of one specific individual. A direct line to each other's thoughts. Either of you can choose to contact the other at any time. There is also supposed to be a constant awareness of one and another's minds and emotions," Spock explained, which mostly sounded awesome and kind of like some of the retro walkie-talkies Jim had seen in a museum back home. He briefly imagined how weird it would be to have a walkie-talkie in your mind; and how cool it would be, too.

"Supposed to?"

This was the most talkative Jim had ever seen a Vulcan thus far. Spock really seemed to enjoy explaining things. Like a mini-teacher.

"Yes," Spock responded simply, not expanding on his statement.

"So, kinda like, if it was sight we were talking about, instead of telepathy; they would sort of be in your line of vision, all the time, and you could look at them whenever you wanted?" Jim wondered, trying to understand what it must be like for someone to have access to your mind and to be able to hear someone else's thoughts.

"I suppose..." the half-Vulcan trailed off uncertainly.

“I thought you guys were telepaths, not empaths,” Jim pointed out.

“It is not as simple as that. Thoughts and feelings are intrinsically linked.”

Jim nodded understandingly.

"And can you just bond with whoever you like?" he asked, placing his elbow on the table (even though he knew it was “unmannerly”) and plopping his chin on his hand.

Spock blinked. Which was... amazing, quite frankly, given how rarely he'd done that thus far. It seemed like a blink of surprise to Jim.

"No. Your parents must choose. It is not about ‘like’, it is about logic," the dark-haired boy clarified.

"But, don't you have to get married to this person when you grow up? How can you marry someone you don't like?"

"...It is tradition," Spock asserted.

"To marry people you don't like? Seems like a weird tradition to me," Jim decided, not liking the sound of it at all.

"You are not Vulcan," the other boy argued.

"Just because it's a Vulcan tradition, doesn't mean it's logical. 'sides, logic can be sujective."

"You mean subjective,” Spock clarified.

“Whatever,” Jim replied dismissively.

Spock's eye twitched slightly, but he remained otherwise impassive as he asked his next question. 

“In what way?"

"Well, what seems logical to someone can depend on what they like, what they don't like, what they think is wrong or right, what they're afraid of… Every person has different things to think about when they're making a decision. What seems logical to you might seem illogical to me. We have different reasons for our choices, different motivations," Jim observed, before picking up and munching on his last slice of cheese-less pizza.

Which could otherwise be described as a weird ketchup sandwich, which wasn’t that appetising, but Jim was _hungry_.

Spock blinked and tilted his head.

 _Wow,_ two _expressive movements. How thrilling,_ Jim thought.

"Fascinating,” he uttered, without inflection.

"You're pretty cool, too," Jim replied generously.

"My body temp-" Spock began to remark, but Jim cut him off with a clarification.

"By which I mean, awesome."

"You are... in awe of me?" Spock questioned, almost looking doubtful. As much as he looked anything, anyway.

"Well, I mean, I'm definitely in awe of your ears. They're pretty great," Jim confided, leaning in closer to the other boy as he spoke, a sweet, mischievous smile sliding onto his face.

An emerald blush was slowly clustering around Spock's cheekbones, much to his companion's delight.

"Can I touch them?" Jim inquired, attempting to look innocent.

Spock blinked and his eyebrows twitched. Jim was betting that that was as good as a horrified expression.

He could tell that this whole “trying to get a reaction out of the Vulcan kid” thing was going to become a habit. But whether it was going to be a bad one or not, he had no idea.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

_“The sounds the stars make above the sky, behind the black, through the night…”_

Jim could hear Amanda’s lilting voice carry down the corridor as she made her way from Spock’s room to his.

_“In flickers and sparks they travel years, through the dark to find us here. Though they no longer shine their lights live on, past their time 'til the break of dawn...”_

Jim would tease Spock about the fact that his mom still sang him lullabies, but sometimes she sang them to Jim too. It was nice.

So, stones in glass houses and all that.

_“May they watch over you when I'm not here, they’ll guard your dreams and chase your fears.”_

He’d never had anyone sing him a lullaby before he came to Vulcan.

_“If I could I'd gather the planets' sighs, and I'd sing them to you as a lullaby.”_

Jim had already fallen asleep to the sound of her singing before she even reached his doorway.

 

* * *

 

Jim spent the few days after Amanda retrieved him from the desert recovering in the S’chn T’gai-Grayson household.

He would’ve found those days of recuperation and forced resting time extremely boring if it weren’t for Amanda’s order to Spock that he keep Jim company.

Jim loved to learn and Spock enjoyed explaining, so after their first day studying together, Spock asked Amanda for the work that Jim was missing at the exchange programme and they worked through that each day after Spock returned from school.

Even that wasn’t enough to occupy them for long, so Jim convinced Spock to let him help the older boy with his schoolwork and self-study as well. Although Jim couldn’t understand everything, Spock was pleasantly surprised by how much he _did_ comprehend.

And when even that couldn’t entertain them and Jim got a bit of a learning overload, he got the Vulcan boy to play videogames with him.

“The premise of this game is… unusual,” Spock remarked, adjusting the vid-visor on his face. 

“Because of the zombies? Lotsa games have zombies in them,” Jim shrugged.

“Do humans believe that a disease could spread that would make them crave the flesh of their fellow humans? Is this a commonly held belief among your people?”

“I dunno, I guess.”

They were surrounded by blood and gore and the pacifist in Spock was conflicted, but the scientist in him was intrigued by how realistic the carnage and rendered boy parts were.

He was also sceptical of Jim’s methods of acquiring this particular game for the console. He doubted his mother would deem its contents age-appropriate.

“Yay, we won!” Jim cheered, pulling off his vid-visor after shooting the last of the infected with a virtual phaser. He offered Spock a high-five, before realising his mistake and pulling his hand back. 

“Oops, sorry. Air-five?”

“What precisely is an ‘air-five’?” Spock asked, in the same tone of voice one might ask their brother why they want them to pull their finger.

Or maybe that was just Jim.

“Uh, a high-five, but without touching? It means you’re happy and are, um, sharing that with someone else,” Jim explained – or tried to, at least. “You just kind of… slap the air.”

Spock simply chose to raise his hand and mirror Jim’s gesture, accepting this as yet another illogical human cultural tradition.

Jim’s smile brightened immeasurably in return.

“Next level now, or food?” 

“Sustenance would be appropriate.”

“’kay,” Jim agreed easily, tossing his control-gloves and vid-visor onto the weirdly shaped Vulcan sofas behind them and making his way to the kitchen.

Spock chose one of the meals his mother had deemed appropriate for Jim during his recovery and ordered two of them.

Jim was fascinated by Spock's ears. He loved new, strange and exciting things and – aside from the fact that everything from his lips and tongue to his cheeks were tinged green – the most exotic thing about Spock was the pointed tips of his ears.

“Y’know, your ears are funny. Sometimes I forget,” Jim commented, twirling his stool around at the marble breakfast island.

Mainly, Spock’s ears made him want to smile. But saying that seemed mushy, so he just stuck with funny.

“What is the definition of ‘funny’?”

Jim blinked, mouth dropping open in surprise for a moment. But the longer the boys hung out together, the more they got used to these moments of cultural dissonance, so Jim recovered his equilibrium quickly.

“Um, when something's funny, it makes you wanna laugh.”

“I see,” Spock replies after a moment’s pause.

Jim had a feeling that Spock did not, in fact, “see”.

“Like, ‘hahaha’. Laughing. Doesn't your mom laugh?” Jim asked.

“My mother would do no such thing,” Spock denied stiffly.

Jim had definitely heard her quietly snort at the very least and he had to purse his lips to refrain from giving Spock a live demonstration.

 

* * *

 

Jim had been staying with the S’chn T’Gai-Grayson family for almost a week when the next comm call from his mom came in.

After an amicable exchange of greetings, Amanda left the Kirks to their own devices.

Jim waited patiently through a few routine questions about his health and welfare, before cutting to the chase and moving onto what he felt was the really important issue.

“Hey, mama, can I marry Spock?”

Winona was left temporarily speechless.

However, this was never a long-term state for a Kirk, and she quickly regained her equilibrium.

“ _What?_ ”

“Spock! His mom is Ms Amanda, and he’s a Vulcan, but he’s really nice – way nicer than you’d think from lookin’ at 'im. And he’s super smart! He was telling me all about semi-o-tics and Warp stuff! But he needs to be bathrowed or else it’s bad for him,” Jim explained in an excited jumble that trailed off into vague moroseness.

“Jim, you’re ten years old. Ten year olds can’t get married,” Winona said, speaking very slowly to drive the point home for her son. 

“I know that! I meant that betrowal thingy,” Jim clarified, as if that cleared the whole situation up. 

“Betrothal?”

“Yeah! It’s called… Bonding or something. Mama, please let me help him. Besides, wouldn't it be nice to do a favour for an ambassador? That’s Sarek’s job, aren’t ambassadors important or something? Pleeeease,” he whined, and Winona had sudden visions of him needling at her incessantly, hounding her until he got his way, and failing that, moping around the house when he got home, nagging her about how she’d wronged him, bringing it up in every argument for eternity ad nauseam. That was what always happened when he got like this. 

Her son was nothing if not stubborn, and pig-headed. He’d gotten that from his father.

So – being the diplomatic, long-suffering woman that she was – Winona decided that before denying him his request, she would at least inquire about this whole “bond” business.

Perhaps it would seem fairer that way when she turned him down.

“Alright, well I’ll tell you what – you go get Lady Amanda and she and I can have another little chat, and we’ll see how we go. What about that?”

“Okay,” he agreed, before yelling, “Ms Amanda, my mom wants to talk to you!”

“Jimmy, I told you to go get her, not to holler at her,” Winona admonished, although she was mostly resigned to the antics of her children by this point.

“Yes? Is everything alright?” Amanda inquired as she strolled into the room through the archway. Jim found the lack of doors in the house slightly disconcerting, but was grateful that at least there was a door on the bathroom.

“I was just wondering if I could talk to you for a minute? In private?” Winona requested politely. Mrs Kirk’s attitude towards the woman was benevolent, since she was the one who had listened to Winona rage about the morons who had failed to keep a close eye on Jim, and then had retrieved him from the desert and had been taking care of him since.

Yes, Winona quite liked Amanda Grayson.

“Of course,” Amanda assured her, slightly worried that she had done something to earn the blonde woman’s ire, but almost certain that she hadn’t. “Jim, could you go for a walk outside with Spock? Get some fresh air?” she asked.

“Okay,” Jim agreed readily, trotting out of the room.

Upon Jim’s exit, the two women turn to face each other. Amanda chose to borrow a favoured strategy of her husband’s and stay silent to allow Winona to steer the conversation.

“My son has just been telling me that he wants to… bond with yours,” Winona began, eying Amanda’s reactions carefully.

Amanda blinked, surprised.

“I’m not entirely sure what that means,” Winona admitted ruefully, “I’ve met some Vulcans in my time, but they’re not the biggest sharers in the Universe.”

“They are definitely not,” Amanda huffed, the edge of her mouth twitching faintly upwards.

“But since we’re all humans here, care to share?”

“I would be happy to elaborate,” Amanda replied, nodding agreeably.

“Great, feel free to take the floor,” Winona invited, waving her hand at the screen. 

Amanda laced her fingers together, taking a moment to gather her thoughts and figuring out how best to phrase what she wanted to say.

“Young Vulcans benefit from forming mental links – bonds – with others, to help stabilise their emotions and brain chemistry. Vulcan children need telepathic bonds to develop, just as human children need familial bonds and bonds of friendship to develop emotionally.”

“And what exactly would it entail for my son?” Winona asked, pursing her lips slightly, wary but not totally opposed to the idea.

“At this age it's... Since they are touch telepaths, I would probably compare it to feeling warmth. It would be akin to constantly holding someone’s hand. You can always _feel_ them, and gain support from them mentally. I don’t know how to best describe it other than that.”

Winona hummed, rolling that over in her mind. It sounded very vague, but… nice, she supposed. It was always nice to have someone to lean on.

“What if Jim changes his mind? Is it reversible?”

“They may separate when they are older if they wish. The bond could be broken if a time comes when Jim no longer wants it. Unless there is a full-bonding ceremony when they are older, Jim would be free to back out at any time. Mainly, it would be to offer Spock some support in his mind for now,” Amanda assured her, her eyes and tone earnest.

“And you’d be okay with them having this… bond?”

“I would be delighted to have Jim bonded with my son. He is a remarkable boy – kind and intelligent – and my husband and I have previously discussed possibly finding a human bondmate for Spock, and he wasn’t opposed to the idea.”

Winona had encountered many different cultures in her time, and had met her fair share of Vulcans in her line of work. Most of them seemed fine. Reasonable, sensible. Maybe it'd do Jim some good to have such a stable presence in his life, and he did have a tough time making friends sometimes. He was too intelligent for his own good, but Vulcans were known for their intelligence, so that could work out well. He'd have someone who could keep up with him – maybe even someone he had to keep up with – for once. And she was always a sucker for helping people. She went into Starfleet because she wanted to help people, after all.

Winona sighed and rubs her thumb back and forth along her palm. Amanda had said her piece and now it was up to Winona to decide what was best for her son.

“Here’s the thing, Amanda – can I call you Amanda?”

At the other woman’s nod, Winona continued.

“I stayed at home until both of my kids were old enough to go to school, and even now I only sign up for short-term missions, so that I can visit them, and be with them whenever school is out. But I’ve decided that now that Jim has hit ten, I’m going to start taking on slightly longer missions, and it’d be nice to have someone else to look out for him, even if just from afar. You seem like a good woman, and an excellent mother – something that’s never been my strong suit. So, I’d be happy to give Jim a little more stability in his life as well. I just worry that this all might be a little… much, for someone his age to handle. The health and well-being of another person is a lot to put on a kid’s shoulders,” Winona sighs, and Amanda can see that the lines between her eyes from frowning and worrying are deeper than the fledgling ones she has at the corners of her eyes from smiling.

“We’ll look into other options, seek another to link minds with Spock, so that Jim won’t feel as pressured. Spock’s health is my and Sarek’s responsibility and I will make certain that Jim understands that it is not his,” Amanda assured her, her hand moving forward slightly on the table that the Comm screen is placed upon, as if she was about to reach out and comfort Winona with a pat on her hand.

“There won’t be any negative side-effects for either of them when Jim comes back to Earth?” Winona ascertained, trying to cover all bases.

“Jim can go as far away from Spock as he wants and it won't be harmful to either of them in the slightest,” Amanda replied.

Winona’s shoulders began to relax as Amanda had put her most pressing concerns to rest. The bond began to sound like it would be quite beneficial to both of their boys.

“I can also give you the contact information for good telepathic healers on Earth as well, so that he can get check-ups if you so wish. Spock will of course respect the privacy and sanctity of Jim's mind, but the healers can teach Jim shielding so that he'll be able to ensure his privacy himself regardless,” Amanda added. 

“In that case, if Jim is sure that he wants to go through with this, I’m happy to give it my blessing,” Winona conceded. 

“I'll keep in contact and Jim will of course be welcome to visit us and stay with us as often as he wishes once he has returned to Earth. You are more than welcome too, and Jim mentioned that he has a brother, Sam?”

“He does, Sam is his older brother,” Winona explained.

“Well, he’s free to visit too, if he likes – and Jim can leave for Earth as soon as the programme is over, if he wants, or he is free to stay with us for as long as he wishes.”

“Sounds great,” Winona agreed as Amanda stood to retrieve Jim so that his mother could tell him the good news.

 

* * *

 

Spock was astounded to hear of Jim’s offer to form a bond with him. It was one of the most generous things anyone had ever done for him. Most Vulcans seemed to be of the opposite opinion, but it seemed to Spock that humans may in fact be the superior beings – at least where kindness and selflessness were concerned.

“We are to be bonded?” Spock asked, confused but refusing to reveal it.

“Not if you don’t wanna, I guess,” Jim replied, shrugging.

“I would be pleased to form a preliminary bond with you,” Spock was quick to affirm.

Amanda’s gaze drifted benignly from one boy to the other, before she remembered what she had originally been sorting out before Jim had dropped this wonderful bombshell on their family. It seemed the boy was a bearer of endless good news.

“Spock, maybe you should look outside. There’s someone waiting out there for you. And take Jim too, he’s the one who found him,” Amanda encouraged.

When he opened the front door, Spock’s eyes widened a fraction and his steps forward were slow as he offered his hand to the sehlat standing in the sun. Jim’s reaction was much less reserved as he ran forwards to greet the animal excitedly.

The sehlat was equally delighted to see both of them and she rumbled happily, placing her snout on Spock’s outstretched hand.

“I recognised I-Chaya and Sarek sent her off to a healer to make sure she was okay,” Amanda explained from behind the boys, where she waited in the shade of the doorway.

“Itchy is your pet?” Jim exclaimed, confused but glad at this sudden turn of events.

“I-Chaya,” Spock corrected absently, and mostly out of habit.

Jim merely rolled his eyes and ignored him.

“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet,” Amanda remarked placatingly, a small huff of laughter escaping her when Spock raised a slightly judgemental eyebrow in her direction.

He was soon distracted by a nudge from his giant sabre-toothed pet.

Amanda smiled, sending a small wave of happiness to her husband along with an encouragement to come and talk to her. She had so many good tidings to share with him.

Nothing made her happier than a happy son – no matter how much he denied that he felt such a thing, she could tell.

A mother always knows. 

 

* * *

 

T'Pau had insisted on meeting Jim beforehand. She congratulated him on surviving so long in the Desert, while also implying that he was foolish to go there in the first place.

Amanda had always known that the old Vulcan woman was the queen of snappishness and back-handed compliments.

Jim thought that T’Pau was the perfect example of the differences between Vulcans and humans – T'Pau was definitely a “grandmother”, not a “nana”.

“You are extremely intelligent for your age and species,” was her final remark to Jim before she departed to prepare for the proceedings that were soon to take place in the hot sands of the S’chn T’gai family ceremonial grounds.

Jim wasn't sure whether to feel flattered or insulted by the inclusion of qualifiers. He chose to go with flattered.

The bonding was a quiet affair.

Spock was content with the proceedings, because he _liked_ Jim, and he conceded that perhaps the younger boy was right about liking the person you share your mind with being important. Besides, Spock would _much_ rather Jim than T'Pring.

Jim couldn’t stop staring at all the strange clothes everyone was wearing. Lots of robes and desert colours mostly, but some people looked like they were wearing the stuff his mom wrapped his lunch sandwiches in – _tinfoil_. It was all he could do not to laugh.

And if he were to assign any expression to the faces of the Vulcan clan members surrounding them, he’d say “frowny”.

They probably wouldn’t be too happy to hear that. But they didn't appear to be very happy anyway. 

Iowa was a riot of green and gold crops and he'd never been to a beach, so when Jim had arrived on Vulcan, it had been the first time he’d ever seen sand. Now it was all around him, and he felt like he'd seen enough of the stuff to last him a lifetime. Spock's hair was a shiny shade of night, which made for a strange contrast with the sun and the sand.

As T’Pau leaned across and placed her fingers gently on the sides of both of their faces, Jim’s gaze snapped back forwards.

After that, all he could feel was sunlight and the cold, refreshing river of Spock’s thoughts running through his own, melding together like currents in a stream.

 

* * *

 

Spock often found Jim to be, quite frankly, ridiculous.

This was one such a moment.

Pretending to be a superhero, jumping around with a blanket for a cape, Jim was loudly proclaiming various points in his heroic adventures to the Vulcan boy as he hopped by.

Spock remained unimpressed.

“Jim, you must desist in this foolish behaviour. Come down off of the furniture.”

 Jim decided to trick Spock into playing catch by taunting him.

“I bet you can’t get me!”

Spock was mildly offended.

“Vulcans are faster than humans, with quicker reflexes, therefore I could indeed ‘get you’. However, I shall refrain from attempting to do so,” Spock remarked coolly. “In addition, as you are a minor, it is illegal for you to gamble.” 

“Excuses, excuses,” Jim huffed. 

“I assure you that I need not make excuses not to partake in this farcical behaviour. Any sane, sentient being could see that this is dangerous and that one could injure oneself if they behave in such a fashion.”

Most kids would’ve gotten bored and given up, but Jim had plenty of experience with annoying the crap out of people – he was practically an expert – and he knew that, eventually, everybody breaks.

“You can’t catch me, nanananana!”

“I do not see why I would want to,” Spock insisted, folding his arms – a habit he definitely got from Amanda.

“You’re just too scared to try, ’cause you know you’ll fail!”

“You are aware that I could indeed catch you, if I so wished,” Spock retorted, tone getting slightly huffy. Jim could feel a slight rumble of irritation echoing through the bond.

So close.

“Well, then prove it! Otherwise it’s just a hypotimus!

“Hypothesis,” Spock corrected tersely. 

“You have no proof! You have no proof! You can’t catch me!”

Spock growled, lunging at the other boy.

Jim squealed, and then turned tail and ran as the Vulcan chased after him.

Mission success.

 

* * *

 

Two months later, the programme was long since over and Jim was standing in a transporter room in ShiKahr, waving goodbye to the best friend he'd ever known.

Amanda and Sarek had graciously allowed him to stay in their home after the programme had finished, but now it was time for him to return to Earth. As he ascended the steps to the transport shuttle, he found himself already longing for Amanda's hugs, Sarek's raised eye-brow and I-Chaya's fur – so soft you couldn't help but run your hands through it.

But most of all, he was missing the green that swept across Spock's cheeks when he was embarrassed, or trying not to laugh. Jim was pretty sure that colour would linger at the edge of his mind, waiting until the most inopportune moments to drift to the forefront of his thoughts. He was already itching with the need to provoke that blush again.

And again and again and again.

Stepping onto the transporter pad and watching them fizzle out of his vision, Jim decided that Amanda, Sarek and Spock's home was one of his favourite places in the Universe.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm hoping this will be part one of five. But in the meantime, this can be seen as a standalone fic. =)
> 
> "Hou" = "Hello" in the Dakota language (insofar as I can tell at least - the different dialects are a little confusing), spoken by the Sioux people from whom Winona is partially descended in this fic. More notes on this will be available in the next fic.


End file.
